Schnorrer of Schwenksville

I imagine little house on the prairie

(bordering Lake Woebegone),

a place to hang cloak

most bucolic, edenic, idyllic...

apropos place for this poetic cowpoke,

who at present day trumpets

himself as token panhandler

of Perkiomen Valley, a

genteel, gentile, and gentle

Semite with friendly okie doke

demeanor easily mistaken

for dishabille and disheveled drunk,

nonetheless harmlessness, I evoke

espied by any man, woman and child

in these parts predominantly

non kosher festive folk,

(especially at Old Pool Farm

August 16, 17, 18 2019)

quick witted with zealous
wordplay, quips and/or

oy gavalt hexameter innocent joke

adroit, capable, das strict

test electrifyingly

faux gerrymandered,

incredible ventriloquist

nsync with karaoke

reaching within my

rabbinical bag of tricks

succeeding with flying colors

par excellent masterstroke

or sometimes more'n one ministroke

never abracadabra prestidigitation

to insult nor poke

fun at anybody but yours truly,

though even lampooning

self could provoke

unwittingly etiquette revoke

king welcome as town

pauper, inscrutable hobo

(phobic) figure, beggar

pummeled By George with

thoroughly good soak

king courtesy rotten tomatoes

if gibes overly saucy

subsequently shuffling off into sunset

emulating Charlie Chaplin

encountering wealthy patron

as blessed thunderstroke

before getting struck by lightning!